b3ta.com user TGP
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I'm 21, from Hartlepool (God's country). Just finished University in Hull, moving back to the North-East to pursue journalistic interests.

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» I was drunk when I bought this

Penguin fantasies
A Pingu towel, Pingu comic, Pingu colouring-in book, Pingu video and Pingu inflatable. (Well, just a penguin, but it's Pingu if you stand behind it and scream "MEEP MEEP!" at passers-by. Which I did)

I got it fixed into my head that I would be a legend if I had all of this Pingu stuff in my room (my Pingu poster still remains as testament to this Pingu phenomenon), but ended up looking like a laughing, drunken twat with a fetish for penguins.

The inflatable didn't help.
(Thu 9th Jun 2005, 11:57, More)

» Stupid Tourists

National History Museum, London. A heffing big Mom, her nerdy husband and two kids were looking at the huge dinosaur skeleton in the foyer. The kid's there, tugging at his mother's leg, going "Mooooooooom" (which was driving me insane, might I add), but just before I was going to clip the little get, the mother goes "What, Jimbob?!". Yep, I thought that name was folklore too. Me and my mate pissed ourselves laughing, until the now-immortal line was uttered by Jimbob himself...

..."I think I tooted."

Cue the first, and only, literal ROFL I've done.
(Thu 7th Jul 2005, 21:47, More)

» Going Too Far

The oldest trick in the book...
...took a big turn for the worse. We all went round to a friend's house after a big Uni bash and we were all hammered; comedy violence was in the air. The bucket-of-water-on-the-doorframe concept was picked as the best and, as I watched, shocked from the sofa on the other side of the room, a metal mop bucket FULL of water (it took 4 minutes to fill up) was resting on the frame and door. Then friend X shouted through to friend Y who opened the door, with said metal bucket clouting him on the head and knocking him clean out. For 3 minutes.

The water didn't touch him, but it certainly got friendly with the new carpet. However, my mate wasn't happy - here he had a knocked out pal on the floor with NO water on him - intended effect failing - and so decided, in all his wisdom, to piss on him, instead of refilling the bucket. That way, he roughly justified, "...he's still getting wet. Except this time it's my piss. And I can't be arsed to refill the bucket, or drag his fat arse into the puddle."

Needless to say that said friends don't really talk anymore.

Clicking "I like this" underneath this post doesn't mean you like pissing on people, by the way, so don't hesitate... (...and if you do, click it anyway)
(Sat 11th Nov 2006, 12:37, More)

» When were you last really scared?

Center Parcs, about 4 years ago...
...me and my friend had rented mountain bikes to cycle around the complex instead of walking. We'd had a few jars in the random pub there and were heading back to the chalet at about 11pm. We decided to go on an adventure - the quickest route was untracked woodland but, quite nicely, it was all downhill. We were both big lads - 6' by that point. We raced down the hill and, whilst both chatting after reaching a nice cruising speed, we heard a rustle in the bushes ahead. The bush was going absolutely fucking mental, and we were absolutely bricking it.

At that point, what must have been about 5 rabbits and a fucking BADGER raced out of the hedge at roughly 70,000mph. We didn't have time to react, we both screamed, and we both went separate directions around the bush. I went left, launched off a tree root, flew through the air and landed absolutely PERFECTLY on the track ahead. I cheered and raised my arms, before plowing over the other side and into a stream. Probably my shortest lived moment of triumph, and no fucker was there to see it.

I heard Jon still screaming, so I picked myself up. What had happened? I thought he'd done a Sonny and whacked a tree. I stumbled up the hill to see that he'd been violated by his bike seat. It took a swift kick of justice to the left arse cheek to remove him. He walked like John Wayne for the rest of the holiday.

The screaming was the most chilling thing I've ever heard, especially in the dimly lit forest. Then again, what would you do if you'd lost your anal virginity to a 4-year-old mountain bike caused by rabbits and a badger?
(Mon 26th Feb 2007, 17:28, More)

» School fights

Age 7, cartoon rules still apply to fights...
I remember a lad from my school called Kevin Martin, thought he was the dog's bollocks (although his hadn't descended by this point) and used to bully smaller kids for no real reason other than he was a first class vagabond.

Anyway, I'd just finished second of 3 in a rousing "Grand National" (run as fast as possible, jump the flowerbeds, pretend you fell off your horse if you were tired... I was a fat kid, go figure), only to get taunted by said boy. I was still quite tall though myself, and whilst backing towards the toilet block I thought I'd risk my chances and insult him back, safely in the knowledge that I could hide (and, if it was that scary, shit myself) in a cubicle in relative comfort.

Facing the wrong way, I backed directly into the side wall of it, the door around the corner. Just as I'd realised, Kevin was running at me, screaming and rotating his arms in some kind of double-vertical helicopter, obviously homing in for the kill. I flicked him the V's (I'm a Northerner, again go figure) and... wait for it... moved out of the way.

His eyes were closed, but didn't see his hands turn to mush on the brickwork. I did. He must've broken about three fingers of his right hand and one of his left, plus the various nasty scrapes. It got so bad that, 2 years ago, I found out through a friend that he had to start writing with his left hand as his right was pretty much minced from that point, and never really recovered. I think my friend's techincal assessment was that "his handwriting's wank". I can't remember caring at the time, I was too busy playing Grand National the next few days to realise that I didn't see him for about 2 months after the incident.

This story has a charming epilogue, though. In the big boy's playground of year 3 he called me a "Poo Bum Wee Wee" while I was playing football - I only remember this because my friends from Primary School all those years ago still call each other it in the present day - so I chased him up the yard. He turned round, dropped a banana skin from his lunchbox, and kept on running. Obviously he thought it was the pursuer's natural enemy, perhaps through his SNES or Looney Tunes. I picked it up and threw it at his stupid face. It hit him in the eye and I got in a load of trouble, but it was worth it.

It was only when I got home did I realise he thought I'd slip up, I thought he just threw like a girl.

It's not the length of the post, it's the how you post it that really drives the ladies wild
(Fri 10th Mar 2006, 23:48, More)
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